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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/23491132">Worry Dolls</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/dankchicken/pseuds/dankchicken'>dankchicken</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>South Park</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Can be percieved as pre-creek or platonic, Coping Mechanisms, M/M, One Shot, They are insinutaed as older elementary school students</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-04-05</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-04-05</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-18 06:28:45</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>4,613</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/23491132</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/dankchicken/pseuds/dankchicken</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>The creation of worry dolls is a delicate process for delicate scenarios.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Craig Tucker/Tweek Tweak</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>13</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>23</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Worry Dolls</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>It took years to get to the point he was at, so Craig didn’t think twice after stepping back from knocking on Tweek’s door for the fourth time. He wasn’t bothered by the lack of response other than the muffled curses that could be heard beyond the door, however the looming presence over his shoulder did. He played with tassels from his backpack straps to comfort himself as Richard pushed into Craig’s personal space and pummeled down the door.</p><p> </p><p>“Tweek, open up right now. Craig is here.” There was something about Richard’s voice that made Craig shiver away. His tone was a dichotomy; sharp but with cadence, discerningly sweet but threatening all wrapped up in a conflicting bundle. When the two were met with the same response Craig just hoped he would give up and leave Craig to figure it out. Richard’s smile didn’t reflect his aura as he beamed down at Craig. Squeezing the straps he tried to maintain a stoic expression as the urge to run struck his bones.</p><p> </p><p>Craig didn’t expect his first time visiting Tweek’s home to feel like this. </p><p> </p><p>When Richard’s smile stretched Craig instinctively stopped himself from taking a full step back. As Richard grabbed the door handle and turned he was immediately met with some unknown resistance. There was a moment of silence then sudden force as Richard forced the door open, the noise of several objects hitting the ground could be heard. “Did you hear me? I said <em> open up </em>. Craig’s here.” Feeling unwelcome Craig feigned thankfulness when Richard turned his glare on him. “There you go. If you need anything just holler, alright.” He hoped Richard didn’t feel Craig’s breath hitch when Richard clapped his shoulder, he refused to respond and instead dismissively nodded.</p><p> </p><p>Craig hoped his brain would erase the last comment of ‘see you later, boys’ from Richard. The sing-song accent made him feel on edge. Even with the limited interaction he had with Tweek’s dad any negative perception he had previously was amplified. Glaring at the fading silhouette of Richard, Craig decided this would be something he’d need to investigate in the future.</p><p> </p><p>Looking ahead Craig found Tweek faced away from him hunched over in a chair. Seeing the outline of legos that scattered across the ground Craig went in search of the light switch. In hopes that this preventive could help the pain from an unfortunate step and more importantly any reason for Richard to check in on them. The room was dim and the light Craig flicked on didn’t help. Craig played with the switch a few times, originally thinking it was broken, but the reality of the situation added more to Craig’s unease. For now he pushed it to the back of his mind, so it wouldn’t sour this experience. Tweek must’ve not noticed Craig’s presence as he continued to spew indecipherable mutters curled around something Craig couldn’t see, but this didn’t surprise him. He stood still and observed the room. It appeared chaotic, but Craig liked to think that it was organized chaos just like its owner. He pondered Tweek’s motivation for the placement of an arrangement of items. After knowing Tweek for three years he knew there was more than what first appeared. </p><p> </p><p>Everything around them was there for a purpose. The pictures tacked to the wall held Craig’s attention the longest. There was no pattern to the media Tweek used. Craig checked off in his mind watercolors, crayons, markers, newspaper cut outs, the variety felt infinite, as he carefully scanned each picture. Walking closer he slowly climbed up on Tweek’s bed, careful of the stuffed animal display that seemed static in time compared to the rest of the room. With Tweek still oblivious to the new presence in the room, Craig studied each of them. Numerous birds speckled the pages. From Eagles to song-birds, chickens to ostriches they were all there at least once. The majority of them were just ordinary birds though. Nothing particularly interesting about them, which perplexed Craig. Side stepping closer to the edge of the bed Craig tried to look at more drawings that were out of reach. In this process Craig accidently disturbed the wall of stuffed animals, a few falling to the ground. The thud of the plushies hitting the floor made Tweek freeze and swivel in his chair faster than Craig expected.</p><p> </p><p>Tweak’s yap was filled with mixed emotions for those who had keen ears. “Agh-Craig.” He slammed his scissors down and hopped out of his chair. With a muscle memory Craig couldn’t even begin to guess how long it took to develop; he maneuvered with a grace he didn’t display at school through towers of lego structures and boxes. He stooped to the ground and gathered all the plushies in his arms. “Get off my bed.” Tweek barked frantically and Craig calmly obliged. With lanky limbs Tweek settled himself in the place Craig used to be standing and reverted the display back to its normalcy. There was a delicate grace to his movements as his alarmed eyes surveyed the rest of the animals multiple times. “What on Earth are-nngh- you doing here? How did you get into my-rrgh-house?” Tweek questions rolled easily into a paranoid tangent. </p><p> </p><p>“Oh, your dad let me in.”</p><p> </p><p>Tweek realized that moment how today was going to end. Craig was a little taken aback by Tweek’s change in body language. His crazed eyes remind Craig of Richard when they met only to have that contact break when Tweek rushed past him to restore the barricade. Tweek returned only a second later and clasped Craig around the shoulders tighter than he realized as he checked over him. The fear that flashed across Craig’s expression caused Tweek to jolt back clutching his hands to his chest. “I’m-I’m sorry.” When Tweek’s fingers moved to pick at his hair and eyebrows Craig frowned and leaned forward against his better judgement and reached for Tweek’s wrists. The pressure made Tweek freeze his movements and cut off anything he planned on saying. There was a quiet moment between them and when Tweek processed what he was doing there was another shriek. “Oh God, Jesus.” Tweek next mutters were an array of apologies and exclamations as Tweek broke a hand free from Craig and snapped the rubber band on his wrist multiple times. Whether he was trying to give himself or Craig retribution the action felt wrong. </p><p> </p><p>Craig stopped Tweek once more with a gentle palm over his fingers, “Please don’t.” Tweek gulped and looked sideways the shame evident. He inspected Tweek’s face, the thinning and patchy brows and the receding hairline in certain areas couldn’t be explained away by a widow’s peak. He instead aimed his first smile of the day up at Tweek as he massaged the skin beneath his thumbs. Gently tugging Tweek he looked up at Tweek for permission then initiated a hug he wished he could give every time this happened. Craig understood how many hugs that insinuated. It felt like a better solution to help stop Tweek compared to his own.</p><p> </p><p>Craig tucked his head under Tweek’s chin and enveloped Tweek as tight as he could. It took a while for Tweek to reciprocate the action, but Craig wasn’t one who would ever complain about taking his time and doing things on his own terms. All he hoped for was the pressure to do something. Maybe it would provide Tweek comfort, let him know that he wasn’t mad, he would never be mad, that everything was going to be ok. He worried that Tweek hated this. That he was just hesitant to voice his concern, but then Craig realized that knowing Tweek he definitely would have made it known by this point if he did. Neither said a word and instead Craig just lightly rubbed Tweek’s back feeling his frail form become more grounded. “I’m sorry.” Craig was able to make out after Tweek mumbled into his hat.</p><p> </p><p>“Don’t say you’re sorry.” Craig struggled to figure out what to say next. “It’s gonna be okay.” He was sure that Tweak could hear the lack of confidence in his voice no matter how toneless it was.</p><p> </p><p>“Okay.” Tweak stuttered the phrase and after a few moments he pried himself from Craig’s grip, instead placing a hand in Craig’s. Tweek rubbed his forearms as he tried to figure out what Craig was thinking. </p><p> </p><p>“I should have called before I came to see if everything was still ok, guess I was a little excited.” Craig mumbled to himself and he didn’t look Tweek in the eyes. “I’m sorry.”</p><p> </p><p>When Tweek squashed Craig’s hand between his he looked up to see a distressed Tweek. “Agh-don’t apologize, isn’t that what you said.” Tweek couldn’t stop his eyes from breaking contact when he said this. “I just-I forgot.”</p><p> </p><p>Opening his eyes a little wider Craig realized the predicament of his own hypocrisy. “Fair enough. We’re even then.” </p><p> </p><p>Tweek released their hands and his foot tapped the ground anxiously. “Well, here it is.” He opened his arms and gestured to the room. “Sorry it isn’t something to write home about.” Tweek turned and tried to make their surroundings look neater, but it was evident how uncomfortable he was with the idea.</p><p> </p><p>“I like it.” This caught Tweek off-guard as Craig surveyed it once again. While claustrophobic it felt like Tweek and that made him feel like home.</p><p> </p><p>“If you-rrgh-say so.” Tweek shifted on his feet trying to remember what Craig did when he first visited. Playing host was much harder than guest Tweek realized. There was a lbit of guilt when he reflected on how often and how long he stayed at Craig’s home. He didn’t want to call it a guilty pleasure because he felt joy there, warm, secure, and loved. All these emotions wrapped up in a ball were something Tweek treasured. “So,” He dragged out the word. “What’d you’d want to-agh-do.” When he endured a flash of twitches there wasn’t much of a blink from Craig. To this day he couldn’t figure out why Craig never reacted. Whether positive or negative, he couldn’t tell if it phased him or not. Did he even register them? The chucking scoffs and raised eyebrows he typically received played into Tweek’s learned helplessness. He wrestled with himself every day whether he wanted to ask Craig and break the illusion that Craig just saw Tweek for Tweek. No pity, just acceptance, that’s all he wanted.</p><p> </p><p>His nerves took over as Craig continued a trance Tweek didn’t realize he was in as he studied the walls of his room. With a skip in his step Tweek dashed to throw open his closet in search of a board game. “Since you’re here why don’t we-” </p><p> </p><p>“What are these?” Craig’s comment interrupted Tweek’s thought process and he popped his head out of the closet. </p><p> </p><p>Seeing Craig at his desk side made Tweek jump. “Oh!” He padded over to Craig as he reached to prod a tiny doll shaped item on the table. Tweek clasped his hand to stop him. “No, they’re not done!”</p><p> </p><p>“They?”</p><p> </p><p> Tweek gnawed his cheeks as he tried to remember how his therapist explained it to him the first time. Returning back to his chair he shuffled around the felt, paper, and glue that scattered the table trying to make empty space for no discernable reason. “They’re my-agh-worry dolls.” Reaching for the glue bottle Craig watched as Tweek opened a small box full of beads and attached it to the head of the doll. The more Craig looked the more things in the room he found to like. Next to the box of beads there were a stack of rocks dotted with paint with patterns that reminded Craig of fractals. Tweek smiled as he grabbed a marker to finish the face, before holding the doll between his pointer fingers and thumbs towards Craig. “My therapist-rrgh-taught me how to make them. You can tell them one worry each and they’ll hold onto it for you so you don’t have to worry about it-ngh anymore.” Tweek couldn’t prevent the smile that squirmed onto his face at his own play on words. “They’re really special to me.” He set the doll in Craig’s palms who stared down at it in awe. “I’m not done with that one.” Tweek’s feet tugged at the cuffs of his jeans as he waited for Craig to respond. “Do you-do you want to make one?” Tweek stammered out. Craig immediately nodded and Tweek jumped on this opportunity. </p><p> </p><p>In Tweek’s absence Craig continued to fantasize as he stared at the little doll in his hand. Handmade out of string he admired all the details Tweek added to them. What they represented Craig could only wonder what these little dolls spared Tweek of. With all the worries that festered in Tweek’s mind he imagined there would be thousands of these little guys. That’s why when Tweek returned with a tiny pouch he couldn’t stop when his head tilted ever so slightly.</p><p> </p><p>Tweek lowered himself to the ground and offered a spot next to him for Craig who took it immediately. Tweek was slow as he undid the sinch and opened the pouch. With extreme care Tweek removed each of the twelve dolls from the pouch. Twelve, only twelve, not a thousand, not even one-hundred, just twelve. They lay facing Tweek eveningly spaced. Each unique in their own way and anyone could tell that Tweek had invested a lot of effort into their designs from their clothes to the expression and hair. “These are the ones I’ve made so far.”</p><p> </p><p>Why are there only twelve Craig wrestled with this question. “How long have you been making these for?”</p><p> </p><p>Tweek looked up in retrospect. “Maybe, two years now, at least I think so, Jesus, oh God, I don’t know.”</p><p> </p><p>“Oh.” Craig let it slip out without realizing. That confirmed it then these weren’t for everyday worries. Each of these dolls had a story behind them. Maybe one day they would trust one another to share those stories, help process any burden Tweek’s dolls couldn’t hold for him.</p><p> </p><p>Tweek squirmed, “Is there-ngh-something wrong?”</p><p> </p><p>Craig tried to salvage the situation, “No, they’re just beautiful.” He wasn’t lying either.</p><p> </p><p>This made Tweek sit back and that same squirmy smile made its way back into Tweek’s expression as he muttered a few incomprehensible words. Tweek delicately but efficiently returned the worry dolls to their bag. Trying to compose himself he stood up, “I’ll help you get started.” Tweek returned seconds later with almost all his craft material from his desk and a few new boxes. </p><p> </p><p>While Tweek was fiddling with his supplies, Craig directed his attention from the dolls over to him. “How long does it take you to make one.”</p><p> </p><p>Tweek froze and tried to figure out how to answer that. “Depends on how stressed I am.” When Tweek didn’t elaborate anymore, Craig took the ambiguity as it was. “I can make the base for you. Watch.” Craig watched Tweek begin to spin a wax like string over a pencil. Tweek was talking about something, but it was going in one ear and out the other as Craig watched Tweek complete his craft. Calloused fingers so worn, even with fresh blood clots visible they moved in a way that Craig expected only ballerinas could.</p><p> </p><p>Craig’s eyes moved from Tweek’s hand to his face and to his surprise he was smiling. This confused Craig further with a ritual based around something stressful, something worrying, something that dominated over Tweek’s everyday worries and panic attacks. How could something that negative be calming. Something that could even cause joy in Tweek. The juxtaposition of it all was something Craig couldn’t rationalize. Tweek must’ve said something about being done as he held out a doll outline for Craig to take.</p><p> </p><p>“Now you get to decorate him.” Tweek pushes some of his supplies toward Craig. “You can use whatever you want. You just need to make clothes, hair, and-oh-don’t forget to draw their face.” Tweek version of enthusiasm was beaming off of every part of him. “You can borrow some of my glue, but don’t waste it, I don’t have many bottles left.” Tweek said before moving the bottle to the space between them.</p><p> </p><p>The corner of Craig’s mouth perked. “Okay.”</p><p> </p><p>There was an unspoken thought between the two and they began to craft. </p><p> </p><p>Craig couldn’t figure out the method to the madness like Tweek jumped back into. So instead he took to just finding his favorite colors and starting from there. Various blue materials surrounded him and he began cutting.</p><p> </p><p>Tweek was fidgeting with his worry doll and fixing the bead he glued to the top of its head. His tongue stuck out in concentration and the way he scratched his face was something that made Craig smile a tiny bit. This was definitely a nice change compared to how their visit had begun. “Can I use that navy-ngh-blue paper after you?” Tweek’s comment broke his thought process until he realized what he was holding.</p><p> </p><p>“Yeah sure.”</p><p> </p><p>The pair worked in silence until a noise broke Tweek’s concentration. “Wait stop.” Tweek sped-walk to his desk. There was a noise of contentment and then Tweek rushed to his bedside and began digging underneath it. He pulled out an unmarked bag and returned to the desk. Craig paused his cutting to follow Tweek who was opening his window. Craig never noticed it was missing a frame and thought it weird as Tweek dug through the bag and pulled out an arrangement of random seeds and what Craig assumes granola. He placed it in a pile near the opening and ducked down, pulling Craig by the sleeve with him. “Look.” Tweek whispered as the two peaked behind the boundary of the chair. A few birds landed one by one on the edge and pecked at the feed. Now it was Tweek’s turn to be entranced. “Aren’t they pretty.”</p><p> </p><p>Craig hummed in response. Despite being birds, Craig swore they felt oddly familiar and he didn’t put the puzzle pieces together until he looked back towards the wall. In that same moment Tweek snuck across the floor and snatched a piece of paper and crayon from the floor. Craig watched the art of Tweek peeking around the chair to catch a glimpse of the birds before turning and sketching. Craig didn’t much care for the actual animals instead finding happiness in watching Tweek’s state of serenity. “Are they your favorite animal?” Craig gestured to the window.</p><p> </p><p>Setting his crayon down, satisfied with his rough sketch Tweek continued to gaze at the creatures. “Rrgh-yes, no, agh,” Tweek felt this time his unoccupied fingers itching towards his hair and restrained himself to sit on his hands. “I prefer flamingos-no-barn owls-no-geese.” Tweek continued to rattle off several more bird species in deliberation before Tweek could conclude, “Maybe kiwi’s, they’re a little chunky. I don’t know man. Do you like birds?”</p><p> </p><p>When the question was turned on him he took a moment to gather his thoughts. “Penguins are pretty chill.” </p><p> </p><p>Tweek grinned. “Yeah, birds <em> are </em> pretty chill. Like the dolphins of the sky.” Tweek murmured semantics over the situation. “I mean besides kiwis, and emus, and penguins. Wait, Jesus, I mean, Penguins are still cool, I promise-ngh.” The disturbance caught the attention of the birds who fluttered away out of view. This distressed Tweek further but Craig playfully waved off his sputterings to try and calm him. Craig felt comfort in their pits of silence which eventually came and without another word turned around to face his work in progress once Tweek had caught his breath. Tweek collected the remaining seeds and stashed the bag like routine before returning to his doll.</p><p> </p><p>The arts were not Craig’s strength and after exhausting all the blue fabric, his creative juices ran dry. Looking back and forth between his final product and Tweek’s progress only reaffirmed this belief. Setting down the doll he took interest in watching Tweek instead. Maybe this was what he wanted all along, he didn’t know himself why his reaction was so immediate when Tweek asked him. His eyes lulled from Tweek’s hands to his concentrated expression. Craig couldn’t discern what Tweek was mumbling under his breath, but there was something eerily calming about it. Moving to his stomach Craig couldn’t remember what we saw before falling asleep.</p><p> </p><p>“Craig? Craig. You need to-rrgh-wake up.” When he was awoken the atmosphere was far less calm. Squatted next to him was Tweek who was jabbing his side.</p><p> </p><p>Leaning on his elbow, Craig rose to face Tweek. “Huh.” He processed what Tweek said then responded again. “I was asleep?”</p><p> </p><p>“Yeah, but don’t worry not for very long.” Tweek fidgeted with his wrists. “I-uh-” He was looking around nervously, eyes flicking between the clock, Craig, and the door. “It’s getting late, your mom might want you back home.” Sitting up Craig looked at the time, he didn’t align with Tweek on that notion. Although Tweek was stubborn with his beliefs when Craig tried to disagree. “Just trust me.” Craig felt that same discontent he began the visit with the way Tweek looked at him saying that.</p><p> </p><p>Clenching the carpet Craig whispered, “Uh-okay.” The air was unnaturally tense between them. “Can I at least help you clean up before I go?”</p><p> </p><p>Tweek snapped out his haze and realized their surroundings. “Okay.” Craig wanted to use this opportunity to stall, but Tweek must’ve thought the opposite as he began hurrying around the room stowing bags and boxes of supplies in random crooks and crevices throughout the room one wouldn’t see unless they were actively searching for it. Craig tried to engage in small talk as they busied around the room, but Tweek shut down most of the conversations. As Craig was collecting scraps of cut paper off the floor he noticed the sketch Tweek had done earlier. Picking up the drawing he set it down on the table and searched for a tack. </p><p> </p><p>Tweek didn’t realize what Craig was doing as his thought process was tunnel visioned, and his adrenaline focused all his senses on something more pressing. When Craig finished pinning it up he looked over the desk once again to make sure he didn’t forget anything. That was when he noticed Tweek’s pouch on the floor beside the desk. It took several taps on Tweek’s back for him to swivel around and address him. Before Tweek could say anything he noticed the item in Craig’s hand. He gasped and on instinct shoved his hand in his sweatshirt pocket realizing what he was seeing was real. “Jesus, thank you.” Tweek plucked the bag from Craig and stored it temporarily back in his pocket. “Oh!” After Craig put his backpack on Tweek returned with his own cupped hands. After depositing the doll in Craig’s hand, Tweek furrowed his brow and dashed to the desk and back. Before Craig realized what he was doing Tweek popped the marker and cupped Craig’s hand. “You forgot the face. Remember that, it’s important.” </p><p> </p><p>There was a flutter in Craig’s stomach from the act. He gulped and nodded, unable to say much. “Did you finish yours?” </p><p> </p><p>“Yeah I did.” Tweek’s reservation was clear on his face, he stopped to listen, then decided it was safe. Fiddling with the pouch he drew out the doll he finished while Craig rested. “Once I’ve used him he’ll find a permanent home with the others.” There was something about the doll’s appearance that screamed Deja vu, but he couldn’t place it, but before he could think too hard about it Tweek cleared his throat. “My therapist says you’ll know in your heart when to use it’s time to use them-agh-so I hope they help you as much as they do for me.” </p><p> </p><p>Craig nodded calmly. “Thank you.”</p><p> </p><p>Once again there was an instant where both of them desired to say something more to the other, but neither could find the words to explain it. “I’ll see you out.” After the hassle and hesitation in Tweek’s movements as he guided Craig to the front door he felt more confirmation for his previous suspicion. He was sure of one thing though. Something dark resided in this house. On the porch, Tweek visibly relaxed aside from a constant pace in his step. “Thank you for coming over. Sorry I’m a terrible host.”</p><p> </p><p>Craig cut Tweek off before he could start a negative tirade against himself. “I liked it. I always like hanging out with you.”</p><p> </p><p>Tweek’s smile wasn’t as vibrant as the previous times, but to prevent Craig from seeing that he embraced him, hands gripping his jacket. Holding Craig tight he felt the shaking subside. That was until he saw a familiar car starting to slow to his house and his heart dropped like he was anticipating. He was just surprised by how fate was treating him. “Craig you need to get away from here now.” Tweek pulled back like earlier and started shoving him down the stairs. “Go, now, Jesus.” His tone was deathly serious.</p><p> </p><p>“What, wait why?” Instantly Craig resisted, which wasn’t surprising to Tweek.</p><p> </p><p>“Just run! Please.” With one big push Craig started sprinting away not looking back as the car came to a stop in the driveway. Turning around assured Craig wouldn’t turn back; Tweek retreated into the house and flew back into his room, setting up the barricade faster and shoving his body against it for extra strength. While Craig’s heart beat from how hard his feet hit the ground Tweek’s was from the growing fear of his surroundings. Every second made his head feel lighter and a hand clenched the pouch in his pocket. When the padding steps passed, Tweek waited for God knows how long to convince his heart that everything was going to be fine. On weak legs he stood and hobbled over to his desk. Collapsing in the chair Tweek’s gaze eventually fell on the pinned picture that wasn’t there previously. Tilting his head up he realized it was the sketch he did earlier, but there was a new addition to it. Getting closer he was able to recognize Craig’s handwriting. ‘Never stop drawing. Let’s do this again sometime.’ Fingers without Craig there to stop them traveled back to scratch at his scalp, digging hair follicles under his nails.</p><p> </p><p>Then the knocking started and Tweek snatched the drawing off the wall and stuffed it in a drawer. The noise was manicical in its intensity and poised with its pattern. He dug out the doll quicker than he realized. While he started making it with different intentions that morning he realized he needed it now. Holding the doll to his lips he whispered into it as quick as he could, silent tears forming until the inevitable slam of the door being forced open. Tweek took his remaining time to tuck the doll with the others and subtly shoved it under the desk. He faced cooled reminiscent of Craig’s when he felt a hand clasp around his shoulder.</p><p> </p><p>Several blocks away from Tweek’s house Craig's body forced him to catch its breath. Before he could put his hands on his knees he realized what he was still holding. Unclenching his fists he saw the doll tousled, but intact. There was a strong urge to run back until he remembered Tweek’s face. He looked at the doll in his hand and started to raise it to his face with lips parted. No. Craig lowered and reclosed his fist. He looked over his shoulder to a house out of sight. He’d be back. </p><p> </p><p>For the meantime he decided he needed this worry.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Thank you very much for taking the time to read this. I know it has been a long time so I'm very appreciative for anyone who is still interested in stories I want to create.</p><p>Apologies if this isn't my finest work. This started out as writing practice while I prepare myself to finish B&amp;M. I planned it to be a short fluff piece, but plans changed as they always do, and I liked this version more, so I might as well share~ I don't have any plans on expanding further chapters, so apologies for the open ended nature of it. I'd still love to hear anyone's comments on it though.</p><p>Either way I hope it was enjoyable! &lt;3</p><p>See you next time, I hope sooner than later. I have a lot to say about my absence, but I'm going to save that for the B&amp;M update.</p><p>Sam</p></blockquote></div></div>
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